Boston Underworld: The Collection

by A. Zavarelli

  I wrap my legs around him and tug his face down to mine. Ronan wrecks me with a kiss. And then his lips are on my throat, indulging in the taste of my skin. He couldn’t know how close I am already when he reaches down between us and touches my clit.

  It sets me off like a bottle rocket, and he’s right behind me. He comes inside of me again. And in one aspect it’s a relief that I don’t have to worry about it anymore. Instead, I’m wondering what he’s going to do when he collapses beside me. Because this is usually the scene where he bolts. Only now, I’m in his house. His bed.

  He looks over at me with lazy eyes and pulls me against him, kissing me on the forehead. I relax into him and draw circles on his chest and my own eyes grow heavy too.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” I murmur against him as I fall to sleep. “Just stay with me.”

  And he does.

  31

  SASHA

  WHEN I WAKE UP AGAIN, at first I think that Ronan is gone. But then I look up to find him propped against the headboard, reading.

  At some point he must have gotten dressed, only he’s wearing a tee shirt and a pair of sweat pants. His hair is still mussed from where I massaged him, and he’s never looked sexier.

  He feels me watching him, and his eyes move to mine. They are unguarded and at peace, and it makes me relax too. I worried that after what we shared tonight, he might try to shut me out again. But so far, he seems perfectly content to have me here with him.

  Then he gives me one of those small smiles of his. And everything inside of me just melts. Ignoring the book in his hand, I crawl into his lap and kiss him like crazy.

  But before we can get too carried away, I pull away and grin back at him like an idiot.

  “I’ll be right back,” I tell him.

  He watches me as I walk over to his dresser and raid his drawers for a tee shirt before trotting out the bedroom door. I go to the kitchen and grab the pint of Ben and Jerry’s I made Conor buy along with two spoons and head back to the bedroom.

  When I sit down on the bed next to Ronan again and he’s looking at me like I’m crazy, so I feel the need to explain.

  “I didn’t get to finish my dinner.” I wiggle the container in his direction. “Ever had it?”

  He checks the label and shakes his head.

  “Oh God, you’ve got to try it,” I insist.

  I grab a heaping spoonful for him and try to hand it to him, but he hesitates.

  “Do you want to smell it first?” I ask. “I think you’ll like it. Brownies and cookie dough. The best of both worlds.”

  “But there’s sugar in it,” he says.

  “So?”

  “So, sugar is…” his words drift off, and he frowns again.

  I’m sensing another hang-up here that has something to do with his childhood.

  “Will you try it for me?” I ask.

  His eyes move from the ice cream to me, and then he nods. And I learn something new about Ronan. I think that if I phrase just about anything that way, he will probably say yes.

  I move the spoon to his mouth and he takes a bite. After a moment, his features morph from curious to something else.

  “Good?”

  “Aye.” He nods. “Very good.”

  He takes the spoon and dips it back into the container, gathering some more. And he looks very much like a child who’s just had their first taste of ice cream.

  I feel protective of him, in this moment. And I never want to let anything hurt him again. I know Ronan can handle himself. He can handle anything this life would ever throw at him because he’s already been through hell and back. But watching him experience things for the first time, such simple things, at his age… makes me realize he also needs someone to experience them with.

  And it occurs to me that I want that someone to be me. For now and for always.

  When he looks up at me with chocolate on his lips, I smile at him. He offers me a smile back. And goddamn, it's a beautiful thing.

  I am so incredibly fucked.

  32

  SASHA

  OVER THE COURSE of the next week, Ronan and I fall into a sort of pattern. He gets up every morning and goes to work just like any other man with a normal job would.

  I don’t know exactly what else his job in the mafia entails, only that he does whatever Crow needs him to. Lately though he’s been taking on more responsibility. I’ve noticed a change in him, even just around Conor and Rory. He gives them instructions- mostly regarding watching over me- with an authority in his tone I’ve never heard before. Ronan’s always been the kind of guy that you didn’t fuck with, mostly because you could tell just by looking at him that you’d be wise not to. But now he’s carrying himself differently. Speaking more. And when he comes home at night, he’s exhausted.

  He hasn’t let me leave the house, and when I try to ask about Andrei he gets very tense. So I’ve let the subject stay dead for now. I’ve kept myself occupied by drawing and cooking a lot. Ronan seems to like what I make him, and he’s even stopped sniffing everything before he eats it.

  Those little signs of his trust in me mean so much more than he could ever know. It makes me think that maybe we could actually make this work between us. That he could be excited about this baby when I tell him.

  But he’s also still holding back a part of himself. I’ve noticed every night after I fall asleep he disappears, and when I wake in the morning, he’s already dressed. It’s happened every night this week, and I’m not really sure what he’s doing.

  So when we crawl into bed this evening, I have a plan. Ronan’s handsome face is marred by the dark circles under his eyes, but it still doesn’t stop him from mauling me. He’s getting more comfortable with that too.

  When we finish and he collapses on the bed beside me, I curl up in his arms and close my eyes. And then I wait. And wait some more. My breathing is steady and even when he finally slips out from beneath me and covers me over with the blankets.

  He grabs some clothes from the dresser before his footsteps move down the hall. I give it a couple of minutes before I go to investigate. And when I find him lying on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, I frown.

  “Do you not want me in your bed?” I ask.

  My voice startles him, and he glances up at me in confusion. “I do,” he answers. “I want ye in my bed, always.”

  “Why are you out here? Is this where you’ve been all week?”

  He glances down and blows out a breath. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought it was better this way.”

  My hands tremble as I wrap them around myself. I don’t expect Ronan to know I’m upset, since he’s not very good at understanding emotions. But he gets up and walks to me, pulling me into his arms and kissing me on the forehead. It’s a gesture so sweet and unexpected, it dissolves the fear right out of my mind.

  “I don’t mean to upset you,” he says. “I worry that I might hurt ye. Like last time. I could not live with myself if I did that to you again, Sasha.”

  I reach up and stroke the dark circles beneath his eyes with my fingers. “You should have told me, Ronan. You’ve been losing sleep. We could have talked about it.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “Because I know that you aren’t going to hurt me. That night, you were on medication. And I shouldn’t have been touching you when you were so out of it. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “I hurt you,” he repeats.

  “It won’t happen again,” I assure him.

  He shakes his head, and I can see this is going to be another battle with him. But it’s one I’m willing to fight. I grab his hand and thread my fingers through his, leading him back down the hall to his bedroom.

  “Lay down, please.”

  He hesitates, so I climb onto the inside of the bed and pat the space across from me. Eventually he gives in, but it’s only to appease me. He plans to leave again once I fall asleep. Too bad for him, I’ve got plans of my own.

  I reach out and run my fingers thro
ugh his hair, and he closes his eyes. I gently massage his scalp and then work my way to his neck and shoulders. The tension drains from his muscles, and within minutes, he is asleep.

  I nestle close enough to feel his warmth but am careful not to touch him anywhere else. And when I close my eyes, I feel safer just knowing he’s there.

  I wake up to the sound of heavy breathing.

  Ronan’s body is rigid against mine, a sure sign he’s in the throes of another night terror. He’s not making a sound, but by the way he’s jerking against me, it’s obvious he’s reliving one of his horrors.

  It’s nearly dawn, so I can just make out his features in the early morning light. His face is contorted in pain. And I want it to stop. I don’t want him to live through this agony anymore.

  My mistake from last time is still fresh in my mind and makes me consider my next move carefully. I crawl from the bed and stand at the end of it, so there’s enough distance between us if my waking him does trigger a reaction.

  “Ronan,” I call out.

  He doesn’t stir from his nightmare, so I call out to him again. And on the third time, his eyes snap open and he sits up in bed, drenched in sweat while his eyes dart around the room looking for threats. When they land on me, they fill with confusion and then disappointment.

  “Hey.” I walk over to his side and crawl onto his lap. “It’s okay.”

  He won’t look at me. His eyes are dark and closed off and far away. He’s angry with himself. I place my palms on his jaw and tilt his face up so he has to meet my gaze.

  “Come back to me,” I tell him as I smooth my fingers over his skin in a soothing gesture. “Always come back to me. We can slay those demons together.”

  His arms wrap around my waist and he buries his face in my neck, breathing me in. When he speaks, his voice is filled with a conviction that doesn’t leave any room to wonder.

  “I’ll always look after ye, Sasha,” he says. “Protect you. You never have to worry about that. Nobody will ever hurt ye again.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  And then I kiss him. Because I know he means it.

  There isn’t a thing on God’s green earth that Ronan Fitzpatrick wouldn’t do to protect me.

  33

  RONAN

  I’VE JUST TURNED on the shower when there’s a knock at the front door.

  Before I can even get my briefs back on, Sasha calls out as she walks down the hallway.

  “I’ve got it.”

  I call out to her and tell her not to answer, but I know it goes unheard through the wooden door. I’m right behind her and only half dressed when she opens the door to Crow. He blinks at her for a second, and relief washes over his face when he sees her standing there. Then his gaze moves to me, and immediately, I know this visit isn’t bearing good news of any sort.

  “Sasha.” Crow dips his head at her. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  She doesn’t catch the strain in his eyes or shoulders, and I’m glad for it. But there’s still the potential for my lie coming unraveled, and I haven’t any idea what I’m supposed to do.

  “What do ye need?” I bark at Crow.

  Both him and Sasha look at me in surprise.

  “I need a word with ye in private,” Crow answers, his gaze roving over my unkempt state.

  He’s smirking now.

  “Looks like I caught you two playing house,” he adds.

  Sasha gives him a funny look and then glances in my direction.

  “We can speak outside,” I tell him. “Just give me a moment and I’ll meet you out there.”

  “I can wait here,” he says. “It’s fecking freezing out there this morning.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” I argue.

  “Ronan?” Sasha walks towards me and rubs her hand over my arm. “It’s okay. I was going to hop in the shower anyway.”

  I’m relieved when I don’t see any questions in her eyes. I’m not ready for her to leave. And I’m not sure now that I ever will be. She leans up on her toes and kisses me on the cheek, right in front of Crow. It’s only after she’s walking away that I’ve worked out it doesn’t bother me. Crow clears his throat, tearing my attention back to him.

  “What’s she doing here, Fitz?”

  “That’s not your concern,” I answer.

  “What’s got your knickers all in a knot?” he asks. “It was an honest question. She was supposed to be leaving, last I heard.”

  I glance down the hallway and gesture for him to sit down. He does. Daisy sniffs at him and he pats her on the head a couple of times before she jumps onto my lap.

  “She’s just staying with me for a bit,” I tell him. “It’s not a big issue.”

  “Ronan,” Crow says in a solemn voice. “I came here to tell ye that Andrei knows about her.”

  “What?” My eyes snap up to his. “That’s not possible.”

  “Anything’s possible,” he says. “And he does.”

  “How do ye know this?” I ask.

  He glances at the floor, and his eyes glaze over. “Someone attacked Jasmine after she left the club last night,” he explains. “And dumped her body in the alley for us to find this morning.”

  He hands over his cell phone, and I stare at the photograph of the mangled dancer. The butcher has left his calling card all over her body, and even to someone such as myself it’s a shock of violence. I’ve no stomach for this sort of act being carried out on a woman. But the most disturbing thing about it, and the one I can’t look away from, are the words carved into her chest.

  Where’s Sasha?

  “She can’t know about this.” I shove the phone back towards Crow so I don’t have to see it. But I’m still thinking about it, and that won’t go away.

  Crow tilts his head to the side and studies me for a moment. He reads the expression on my face clearly. This thing with Andrei has just taken on a whole new urgency that it never had before. And Crow thinks I’m going to do something stupid. He’s probably right.

  “I’m going to find him,” I tell him.

  “Ye’re not going anywhere alone,” Crow answers. “He’ll be expecting ye.”

  “I always work alone.”

  “This is not up for debate, Fitz.” He rises to his feet. “And if I were you, I’d reconsider telling Sasha.”

  I take off my glasses and rub my tired eyes. “She already sort of knows.”

  He looks down at me and nods. Crow knows me too well to have to ask why.

  “See to it that Rory’s here to watch over her,” I tell him. “Conor can come with me.”

  “Conor’s too green,” Crow argues.

  “Which is why he won’t be staying here alone with Sasha.”

  Crow looks set to argue, and it riles me. “I recall a time not too long ago that ye didn’t want to leave Mack’s care in Conor’s hands either.”

  He smirks and shrugs, and I know I’ve won. Rory and I have a mutual respect for each other. I trust him. And if I have to leave Sasha alone with anyone who isn’t me or Crow, I’d rather it was him.

  Crow’s face clearly betrays how little he likes it, but he knows I’m right. We don’t have enough men to watch over all the dancers, maintain normal operations, and chase after Andrei.

  “I’ll send him over then,” Crow says as he reaches the door. “And Ronan?”

  “Aye?”

  “Quit sending my wife so many bloody donuts,” he says. “It’s not good for the baby.”

  After a quick shower, I head off before Sasha can even finish breakfast. I think she’s worked out that something’s not right, but she didn’t ask.

  That’s what I like about her. She never pushes me. She lets me do what I have to, and then she waits until the right moment if she has a question. If she thought it was odd that Rory showed up to watch over her, she didn’t say so.

  Now Conor and I are in the car, driving to all of Andrei’s usual haunts trying to chase up leads. By lunchtime, we’ve already been shot at twice and ne
arly stabbed as well. Conor handled himself pretty well, and I told him so. He’s young, but he’s learning fast.

  “It seems kind of pointless to go to all the same places he usually hangs out,” Conor notes. “If he’s taunting you, how likely do you think it is that he’s going to be somewhere he knows he can get caught?”

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” I clip out.

  Conor shrugs and then stares back out the window. “Well if he’s looking for Sasha, I would assume that he’s probably somewhere near her apartment and the club. Even if he isn’t, some of his men would be. Do you know who any of them are?”

  His words spark a memory. The familiar face that I couldn’t kill the last time I saw him. The young lad who looked like Alex.

  I hit the brakes and turn around, heading towards Sasha’s old apartment. Conor glances at me, and he’s got a stupid grin on his face.

  “I said something helpful, didn’t I?”

  “Aye, lad,” I tell him. “Ye’re learning.”

  For the next three hours, we drive around Sasha’s neighborhood and some of the places near Slainte where they might be hiding out. The problem is that the area has an abundance of seedy places to hide. I never liked that she lived in this neighborhood, but there was little I could do about it.

  I don’t think we’re going to find Andrei today, and it grates on my nerves. But then I spot a lad on the corner of Sasha’s apartment building from across the lot where we’re parked. He’s not the same lad who I saw that night, but he’s about the same age. Young, dumb, and obvious as shite.

  He keeps glancing over his shoulder as he walks. I count each occurrence, and by the time he reaches the main door, he’s done it six times.

  “Him,” I tell Conor.

  Conor scrunches up his brows and shakes his head, doubtful. “You think so? He just looks like some young punk to me.”

  “Sort of like you,” I remark as I climb out of the car and shut the door behind me.